


131. Coming Home

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [131]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:52:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	131. Coming Home

_**Sam Worthington and Ryan[](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/profile)**_[ **kwanten**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/): coming home  
 **players only. backdated. takes place after[Ryan spends more alone time in Vermont](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/30446.html).**

JFK airport is the stuff of nightmares. And that's even _before_ the taxi Ryan barely managed to snag hits the completely ridiculous city traffic. All in all, it takes him nearly a full hour longer than it should simply to get from the airport back to their rented flat in the city. And it's an hour that Ryan can barely cope with.

He needs Sam. He needs to get back to Sam, apologize profusely, throw himself at his lover's feet and beg Sam to take him back... hell, they didn't even break up. But Ryan has had too many hours alone to think about all the ways he's been screwing them over, by insisting on going off on his own at a hell of a crappy time, when Sam has just started a new film shoot and Ryan nearly had a fucking breakdown in the wake of an intense-beyond-words scene. Somehow, he needs to fix this.

And if he gets back to the apartment and finds there's actually nothing to fix, because Sam has been totally fine in his absence? Well, then... _fuck_. Ryan doesn't even know how he'd deal with that knowledge, and so his mind automatically shies away from the possibility.

Tonight Sam had come straight home. He'd been tempted to go back to the club but he was tired and depressed and being around anyone seemed like way too much fucking work. So now he's sitting on the couch, watching some Jason Statham flick, part two or three, and eating the last of Ryan's lamb stew. He's probably just gonna call it an early night after. 

Ryan chews on his bottom lip in frustration as he rattles the key in the lock, trying to turn it the wrong damn way before he slows down enough to get it right. Front door open, his bag pitched to the floor, and he's stalking towards the one lit room, his heart aching.

Sam frowns at the sound of the front door being unlocked. Sets his tray down on the coffee table and stands, slowly making his way towards the hall. "Hello? Who's there?" he calls out.

That familiar voice, god... Ryan shivers and then he's _there_ , grabbing Sam and burying his tongue in his lover's mouth, already rubbing against his body and desperately wanting to drown in him.

For a moment, Sam wonders if he's dreaming but the flesh beneath his fingers feels solid and the tongue in his mouth... "God, Ryan," he whispers, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him so fucking hard. "You're back. I thought..." Fuck. Who cares what he thought. It doesn't matter. Ryan's here. Home. With him.

"I'm sorry," Ryan gasps, mortifyingly close to tears with the combination of agony and relief. He tugs at Sam's shirt, his fingers curling tight in the fabric. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Sam asks, his chest going tight.

"For leaving," Ryan whispers, pulling back just enough so he can see his lover's eyes. "I'm so sorry for leaving."

Sam nods, fuck, feeling himself tear up. "I wanted to ask you not to go," he whispers.

"You did?" Ryan is floored. He traces a trembling finger over Sam's lips. "I won't do it again."

"But I thought you needed to?" Sam says, confused. "That's why I didn't say anything."

Ryan shrugs, gently combing his fingers through Sam's hair. "I thought I needed to," he murmurs, trying to explain. "Sam, I--" he breaks off and rubs a hand hard over his eyes. "I was trying to step back from you," he whispers, and fuck now he is so damn close to losing his shit entirely. "Not _away_ , just back. To prove to myself that I could." Ryan swallows hard, then shakes his head. "But I can't."

Christ. "I don't get why that's such a problem," Sam says, beyond confused now. Ryan had been actively trying to shake him off? Like he's some sort of bad habit? "We love each other. We're _supposed_ to want to be together."

"It's not about wanting you, it's about needing you," Ryan says, wishing he could find better words. And fuck it all, now he _is_ crying, and the realization makes him so damn angry. Crying in scene is one thing, and he can deal with it as a natural consequence of letting go; but crying when they're fully clothed just because he can't control his emotions... to him, it's simply one more sign of how deep he's in. He swipes tears from his eyes and then takes Sam's hand, leading him back to sit down on the couch.

"Sam. I'm -- I'm addicted to you," he whispers. "And I don't mean that figuratively, I mean that... that I freak out when I'm away from you. Like I'm some kind of dependent child who lost his mum in the shops. I feel like, if you just didn't come back one day, I wouldn't be able to cope." And that's the polished version of the truth, really. "I know you've told me that it's okay to feel like this, but... fuck, Sam." Ryan squeezes his lover's fingers. "I'm so scared that you'll get tired of it. Or that you'll think I'm less of a man because I'm so dependent on you." He bites his lip. "Because I can't... I can't change it."

Sam doesn't know what to say. Seeing Ryan in tears just kills him. "If you freaking out when you're away from me makes you co-dependent, then we're both pretty fucked," he says finally, "because I was _thisclose_ ," holding his fingers a fraction of an inch apart, "to texting you to come home the very first night. And I spent yesterday and today moping all over the fucking place. I hated not having you here. I didn't even want to come home. Because it _wasn't_ home without you."

Those words... if anything, they just make the tears flow faster. "I would have come," Ryan says softly, nodding a little, although he's pretty sure Sam already knows that. One corner of his mouth curves up, like he's trying to force a smile but just can't manage it. Then he just gives up and climbs into Sam's lap, hugging him like he'll never let go.

"I love you so much," Sam whispers, holding Ryan tight, his heart aching. He would do _anything_ to calm Ryan's fears, convince him that he'll always be here, always want him like this.

"I know," Ryan whispers back, hiding his face against Sam's throat. Not once since Sam first told him he loves him has Ryan ever doubted the truth of those words. "I just... I just want to be your boy," he murmurs, finally starting to get his tears under control. "I want to always take care of you."

"I want that too," Sam says, hugging Ryan even tighter. "I love having you take care of me."

"Even though you're more than capable of taking care of yourself?" Ryan asks softly, tracing an aimless pattern over Sam's sleeve.

Sam nods. "It's different when you do it," he says. "It means something."

Ryan sighs, rubbing his cheek against Sam's shoulder. "It's because I love you so much," he whispers. He eases back until he can meet Sam's eyes, then dips down to kiss him.

Sam groans into the kiss, sliding a hand into Ryan's hair and deepening it. Claiming his boy's mouth.

It's as predictable as the seasons: in no time at all Ryan is getting frantic, rubbing against Sam and slipping his hands under his lover's shirt, needing to touch bare skin. "Please," he gasps, licking again and again at Sam's lips. "Please."

"Bedroom," Sam growls, biting at Ryan's mouth. "I want you naked and you can crawl there," he orders.

It takes a second for the order to filter through, but then Ryan gets to his feet instantly. He sheds his jacket and kicks out of his boots. The hard part done, he can devote himself to yanking off his shirt, shucking his jeans. Glancing up, he shivers a little at the intensity of Sam's eyes on him. Then he drops gracefully to his knees and begins prowling towards the bedroom.

Sam follows, so achingly hard already he can barely breathe, the sway of Ryan's hips only sharpening his arousal. "On your back," he orders, removing his own clothes and tossing them aside.

Biting his lip, Ryan nods. He stretches out on the bed and looks up at Sam, and his heart clutches. Hard. _Yes_. God yes.

Sam kneels on the bed and moves between Ryan's thighs, shifting his knees up under him. "Are you prepped?" he asks, unable to tell in the half-light of the room.

"Yes, Sir." If Sam had any lingering doubts as to Ryan's intentions in coming home tonight, then that one simple statement should relieve them. Ryan reaches for his lover, unsure if he's allowed to touch right now.

Sam breathes a sigh of relief at the words. He would have made sure Ryan had lube either way but knowing that he'd prepped, that he'd planned for this, for his sir, it puts everything right. He braces his hands above Ryan's shoulders and lines up, shifting until he's got the crown right against Ryan's hole, and then pushes in, deep, with one hard shove.

Ryan cries out, arching into his lover. Pain sears through him and comforts him in the best of ways. He grabs Sam's hips and immediately begins to rock against him, trying to work him deeper.

Leaning on one hand, Sam deliberately places the other against Ryan's throat. "Mine," he says, not squeezing, not pressing, not anything yet. "Say it," he demands, fucking his cock into Ryan's hole in shallow teasing thrusts, refusing to let Ryan pull him in all the way.

"Yours," Ryan whispers, drowning in Sam's eyes. His hands fall limply to his sides as he offers himself up completely. "I'm only yours, Sir."

"Mine," Sam nods, tightening his grip as he slides deeper, all the way in, bottoming out with a sharp snap of his hips. And again.

Ryan curls his fingers into the bedsheets and draws his knees up, pleasure streaking through his body. He swallows hard against the pressure of Sam's hand on his throat.

Sam tightens his grip even further, watching Ryan's face as he fucks him still harder, slamming in hard again and again. "My boy. My hole," he growls. "Mine."

 _Yes_. Ryan would speak his agreement aloud, but Sam is taking his breath away -- literally. And Sam is saying things his boy desperately craves hearing. Ryan gasps, instinctively struggling for air before he makes himself relax again, his cock throbbing between them.

"Every fucking inch of you," Sam says. "Everything. Even this," stealing Ryan's breath completely for an instant before he eases up again.

Ryan whimpers as the pressure loosens. And he nods slightly, his eyes locked on his lover's face. Sam is still driving into him, owning his body with every thrust. But the sex is nearly secondary at this point -- Sam is showing he knows full well that he owns Ryan's soul, too.

"And you're going to come for me, aren't you, boy?" Sam growls, fingers gripping tighter, cutting off Ryan's breath again. Slamming in on a good half-dozen thrusts before his grip eases. " _Now_."

Blood pounds in Ryan's head, black panic starting to swirl up. But when Sam says _now_... Ryan bucks beneath his lover, his orgasm raging through him in an instant. He shudders in its wake, fresh tears welling in his eyes at the sheer intensity of it all. 

Fuck. Sam unloads with a shout that reverberates through the room, pumping his seed into Ryan. His boy marked. Owned. His.

Ryan shudders and gasps for breath. He quakes around his lover's cock, his hands slipping over Sam's thighs, his ass. Needing to touch him, bring him in tight.

Sam drapes himself over Ryan, kissing him fiercely. "Mine," he whispers once more, sucking at Ryan's bottom lip.

The tears are falling again, damn it. But this time they're tears of grateful release. Ryan clings to Sam, totally open. Totally vulnerable. But safe.

"Come on set with me tomorrow," Sam says softly when Ryan settles a little.

There are dishes to do, probably laundry... "Okay," Ryan whispers. He'd agree to anything right now, even if it was completely mad. He trails his fingers lightly along Sam's nape, just needing to caress him.

Surprised, Sam smiles, smug and satisfied. "That was easy," he murmurs and kisses Ryan softly, again and again.  



End file.
